A Parody of Manners
by WynCatastrophe
Summary: A house party on Naboo leads to intrigues, revelations, and the occasional happy ending.  Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Palpatine, Sola Naberrie, Padmé Amidala, Bail Organa, and a host of others.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. This story is purely a work of fan fiction, and I am not making any profit from it.

Author's note: A longish while ago, What-Ansketil-Did-Next asked me to write a house party fic. I have no reason to suppose that this is what she had in mind, but it's what she's getting, anyway. (Sadly, not in time for her birthday … but then on the other hand, considering the fic, perhaps that's just as well.) Anyway. So here is a parody using a bunch of characters from the SW universe and a couple of others I just made up on the fly. Or stole back from other stories I'd already written. (Whatever.) Chapter title from the song "Crazy," by Gnarls Barkley. Adheres to my usual philosophy for humor: situations are funny, but characters are played for keeps. Set in no particular 'verse.

**[A Parody of Manners] **

**Chapter One: **

**Even Your Emotions Have an Echo **

"I fail to see how attending a highly politicized house party hosted by your ex-lover's secret wife's married sister is going to be anything less than a disaster," said Evinne.

Ryn looked up from folding clothes she could only sketchily identify into a suitcase that, in her considered opinion, was at least half as big as she was and definitely three times larger than it needed to be. "Anakin asked me to go," she said stubbornly. "I won't let him down."

"Let's review," said Evinne, not quite patiently. "Your ex-lover - _very ex_, Ryn, he _married another woman_ - wants you to go to a house party with him and a bunch of people you don't know - oh, _and his wife_." Exasperation was rife in her tone. "What was he _thinking?_ Unless he wants to bang you both, of course, in which case I don't think Padmé's the type."

"Not _with_ him," said Ryn. "Padmé would never stand for that. He just ... wants me to be there."

"Uh-huh." Evinne's skepticism was clear. "Have you thought about _why_?"

"Doesn't matter," said Ryn forcefully. "He wants me there, so I'm going. Maybe he needs me to watch his back among all those politicians."

"Or maybe he needs a decoy to help him get into Padmé's bedroom." Evinne leaned forward, her blue eyes unusually earnest. "He's using you, Shorty."

Ryn bowed her head, looking down at the profusion of sept-silk and lace under her hands. "He can have me any way he wants me," she said, and snapped the case shut.

It was the social, and maybe the political, coup of the season. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine was attending her house party. Well, really Sola's house party, but since it was Padmé's idea and she had taken a hand in the planning, she felt a certain sense of ownership about it. Anyway, they couldn't have had it at Padmé's house, because Padmé was still (officially) unmarried and she didn't _have_ a house.

She paused in her perusal of the R.S.V.P. list to glance out the window, but she wasn't really seeing the lush landscape of Sola's grounds. She was lost in a vision of some other life, in which she could be Anakin's wife not just in secret, but for _real_. She didn't _feel_ like a wife, yet. Not when nobody knew her secret. Being married was supposed to _change_ things.

_Well ..._ Padmé bit back a giggle, blushing furiously as she remembered. Being married had changed _some_ things. She'd had no idea her body could _feel_ that way.

"Hurry, my love," she whispered, knowing she was being melodramatic and not caring. "I can't wait to feel you in my arms again."

Actually, that wasn't where she couldn't wait to feel him, but even a secretly-married woman could only be so bold. There were some things Padmé couldn't make herself say.

Anakin would hear them in her kisses anyway.

Obi-Wan Kenobi glanced down at the invitation again, not surprised exactly, but a little puzzled all the same. It wasn't _strange_ for Padmé to invite him, but it was a little out of the ordinary. And for the Council to send him there, in the middle of the war ... well, it was certainly true that they needed to cultivate a more friendly relationship with the Senate, but it hardly seemed necessary to start with Padmé. She had been one of the Jedi's strongest supporters.

"Anakin," he said, looking up from the invitation to his erstwhile apprentice, who was completing their flight-check. "Are you sure you're ... up to this? If you felt that it was ... in any way _hazardous_ to your ... serenity ... I'm sure the Council would -"

"Obi-Wan." The younger man waited until Obi-Wan was meeting his eyes. "I'll be fine, all right? It's just a party. And Ryn will be there."

"Er ... yes." Obi-Wan had a feeling his plan of distracting Anakin with Ryn a few months ago had gone rather less well than he would have liked; outwardly, at least, Anakin was his usual self, nothing different that couldn't be explained by the hardships of war, but Ryn was looking ... a little tireder, a little sadder. Even more desperate when she was around Anakin. "Well, I hope you both find some time to relax."

"I'm sure we will, Master."

Sly Moore handed Palpatine his briefcase and an extra datareader, just in case. "Don't forget, sir - I'll be checking in with you at -"

"At oh-nine-hundred every morning," Palpatine finished indulgently, smiling at his assistant. "Yes, I know. You're very punctual. Now do stop worrying, and try to relax for the flight."

Sly gave him a not-entirely-satisfied look. "Yes, sir. I'll see you on Naboo."

"I see we're the first to arrive," Bail Organa greeted Padmé, letting Sola's groomsman deliver their small transport to the private docking bay behind the house. "Not too early, I hope?"

"It's never too soon to see old friends," Padmé answered, smiling. The words were practiced, but the voice was warm; Padmé was one of the few people who could make the tired pleasantries of the galaxy's elite sound genuine again. "Breha, I'm so glad you could make it."

Bail's wife's smile rivaled Padmé's: truly, two of the few good women left in these dark times. "I wouldn't have missed it, Padmé." She leaned forward, moving a little gingerly still, and kissed the younger woman's cheek. "Is there anything we can do to help you prepare for the next arrivals?"

"No, no, everything is in hand." Something had her blushing, but Padmé shook it off. "Please. Come in and meet my sister."

And the party began.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. This story is purely a work of fan fiction and I am not making any profit from it. Chapter title from ADELE's "Rumor Has It."

**[A Parody of Manners]**

**CHAPTER TWO:**

**she ain't real**

**\/~~~\/**

* * *

><p>She found Anakin busy entertaining Sola's children in the garden.<p>

"Jedi Skywalker," she greeted him.

"So formal, milady?" inquired her husband, eyes dancing. He flowed to his feet like water - _water doesn't run uphill, Padmé, that's ridiculous _- and swept her an exaggerated bow. "Your servant, Senator."

Pooja giggled. "He's being silly, Aunt Padmé!"

"So he is," Padmé agreed, smiling in spite of herself. "I suppose we have known each other too long to stand on ceremony."

"Much too long," Anakin affirmed, still twinkling at her. "And speaking of formality ... what is that you're wearing?" He gestured at Padmé's staid, high-necked gown. "I hope you're not going swimming in that."

Padmé tilted her nose up. "I'm not going to swimming at all," she informed him primly.

"But it's such a hot day," said Anakin, duly solemn.

It _was_ hot. Padmé glanced at the sky. "It could storm."

Anakin spared a quick look for the puffy white clouds. "I don't think so," he said. "Why, are you afraid you might get wet?"

"It's dangerous to go swimming in a storm," Padmé told him. "When lightning strikes the water -"

"But it's not storming yet," Anakin pointed out, entirely too gleeful. And Ryoo and Pooja want to see where you used to try and guess the names of the birds singing."

"The birds - Anakin, you didn't!"

It ought to be illegal for anyone to look that cocky. "Didn't what, milady?"

But Padmé only gazed narrowly at him. There was no reason she could safely offer for why he should not divulge their conversation at the lake retreat, so many months ago, except what had happened ... _after_. She caught Anakin's eyes and glanced hastily away, a blush rising to her already warm cheeks.

"Ryoo and Pooja aren't yet old enough to swim so far."

This gave rise to a chorus of protest that they were, _too_, old enough. Padmé found it harder to deflect their insistence as she had been very little older when she did the same on school retreats. But then Anakin interposed with - Padmé suspected - exactly the devious suggestion he'd been angling toward all along. "You know what we need?" he exclaimed, putting on the air of one suddenly struck with a new thought. "A swimming lesson!"

This proposal was greeted by her nieces with shrieks of approval so loud they drowned out Padmé's more temperate protestations. "Please, Aunt Padmé,_ pleeeeease!_"

She glared at her husband, but Anakin remained unrepentant. "Come on," he cajoled her. The sound of his voice hummed through her blood, tingling in places she tried not to think about. "It' the perfect day for it. Besides," he added, turning serious for a moment, "Ryoo and Pooja don't get to spend nearly enough time with you."

It was her weak spot because it was true, and he knew it. Padmé glanced at their round little faces and sighed. "All right," she decided, not nearly as reluctant as she knew she should be. "Let me go change."

If anyone had asked Padmé, before she embarked on her course, what were her expectations of a secret marriage, she would probably have thought of the romance of stolen kisses, of love hidden under cover of night. But Anakin, she had soon found, was as happy in the yard as in the bedroom, in daylight as in darkness: he was happy anywhere, as long as he was with her. He loved making love to her; but he loved doing everything else with her, too. So far from being jealous of this time spent with her nieces, he was eager to share it.

_And this is why I love him. _

The hours of that afternoon, dabbling around in the water near the shore while Anakin taught her - itheir/i, though no one could know it - nieces to swim better, were golden. Padmé lay back on the shore, or floated quietly on her back, and watched Anakin teaching the girls new strokes, or doing tricks for them with the Force and his own considerable agility. She lost herself in a thousand pleasant fantasies that they would one day do this with their own children. Having a family was far too dangerous; Ryoo and Pooja would have to be enough.

It was too good to last, and so Padmé was disappointed, but not surprised, when a voice called for Anakin and his friend Ryn appeared around a turn in the path.

"Anakin!" she sang out again, swinging her way to the edges of the bank. "You're wanted in the house. Obi-Wan sent me to find you."

He glanced up at Ryn's call, annoyed at the interruption and guilty for feeling annoyed.

_It's not Ryn's fault,_ he told himself. But the urge to shoot the messenger (metaphorically speaking) made his voice a little rougher than he'd meant for it to be: "What's going on?"

Ryn shook her head, light flashing on the earrings half-hidden in her dark hair. "Chancellor Palpatine has hopes the Jedi will be able to resolve a budding crisis."

"You don't sound too hopeful yourself."

"I"m a cynic," said Ryn, but he could see the smile lurking in her eyes as he clambered out onto the bank. "Also, it involves politics."

Anakin winced. "Really?"

"A Senator's aide, Bothan." Her mouth tightened briefly as she glanced at Padmé. "I probably shouldn't say any more. Master Kenobi will brief you - and if all goes well, there will be no crisis after all."

Of course that just made Padmé more curious. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Anakin caught Ryn's shiver of hesitation, in the instant before she shook her head again. "It's not for me to say, Senator. I understand the situation only very imperfectly myself."

'Well," said Padmé, shooing Ryoo and Pooja out of the water ahead of her, "I invited most of the politicians here. I have a duty to help keep the harmony if I can. Lead on."

Ryn waited for Anakin's nod before bowing. "Yes, Senator. If you will follow me?"

Ryn kept a tight rein on her feelings as she led the way up the path and into the house. It was not unreasonable, she told herself, that the Senator should want to take part in peace-making efforts at a party for which she was widely regarded to be at least halfway responsible. Sola Naberrie might be the hostess, but there could be little doubt that Padmé Amidala was the primary mover behind this enterprise.

It was further not unreasonable - though it burned Ryn like cold iron to think of it - that Padmé should want to accompany her secret husband on his errands, however mundane.

_The only unreasonable one here,_ Ryn concluded, grinding her teeth, _is _me_. Because it _is_ unreasonable to go following a man who _does not love you_ around the galaxy like a lost akk. Idiot!_ But instead of announcing her intention to depart, or finding something better to do, Ryn threw open the door to the small study where she had left Obi-Wan and Palpatine closeted with the young Bothan Senator's aide. "Here we are!"

A being less inured to the claims of compassion could not have failed to be moved by the tragic spectacle young Orun kept making of herself. Palpatine had given up the tender emotion of pity long ago, and yet it blended curiously with his contempt for her. The girl was so obviously in despair, stricken with love for Skywalker and knowing she had no hope of winning him. She made no attempt to hold his attention as she announced their entrance, just followed him forlornly with her green eyes.

Amidala was another matter. Even distressed by the necessity of keeping the true nature of her relationship with Skywalker secret, she _glowed_, fulfilling all the most clichéd promises of a woman in love - and, better still, sure in her heart that she was loved in return. She betrayed not a doubt of Anakin's devotion.

Anakin himself was laughably transparent - but since Kenobi was putting himself to such pains to ignore this, Palpatine supposed he could do no less than pretend, at least, to do the same.

"Anakin, thank you for coming." Kenobi bowed to Amidala. "Senator, I hope we have not inconvenienced you."

"Not at all," said Padmé, smoothly and implausibly. "Anakin was just helping me to give my nieces a swimming lesson."

"Ah." Kenobi looked justifiably nonplussed at this intelligence; Orun stepped nimbly into the gap.

"If you won't be needing me," she said, carefully addressing herself to the party at large, "I thought I might take the young ladies to get changed. Senator, shall I bring you a robe?"

It wasn't the most graceful diversion Palpatine had ever seen, but it was swift and effective; his estimation of the Jedi's pet barbarian went up a notch.

"Yes, thank you, Ryn," said Amidala with great condescension. "And if you could have someone send us refreshments?"

It was the kind of speech Naboo's bourgeoisie made not to their familiars, but to upper-class servants, and something in Orun's still face said she knew it. But she didn't quibble. She gave the Senator a bow so low as to be sarcastic, ushered the children out before her, and was gone.

Palpatine turned from his contemplation of her departure to find Anakin blushing over his wife's behavior in uncomfortable silence. _So the boy has some standards after all_. It would be rash to try and probe him with the Force in front of Kenobi; rash even to touch Skywalker with the Dark Side except from a distance. But even without such assistance, Palpatine could see the way Anakin's eyes slid away from his wife's, unwilling to confront her and yet unable to support the way she had spoken to his friend. Probably in a few hours' time he would have contrived to bury the conflict and convince himself that he had merely misconstrued Amidala's tone or some such nonsense; but for now, at least, there was a crack in his defenses.

There was, however, very little chance of turning it to account under Master Kenobi's watchful eye, so Palpatine contented himself with throwing a little salt in the wound. "Remarkable girl!" he observed genially to Amidala. "So handy. I can understand what the Jedi see in her."

"Her Grace," said Kenobi coolly, "devotes herself to serving others, after the fashion of the nobility among her people."

The intervention gave Palpatine pause, as much because he hadn't seen it coming as anything. He had underrated either Kenobi's audacity in diplomacy or his attachment - ha! the Jedi would love that - to Orun.

"She has certainly done great service for the Republic," he agreed mildly. "That young woman is fast becoming a war hero to rival even your own well-deserved fame."

That drew a laugh from Anakin. "Don't let Ryn hear you say that, sir," he said. "She hates it almost as much as Master Obi-Wan does." The look he exchanged with Kenobi bespoke a private joke, and a shared knowledge of the woman in question.

_Laugh together all you want. That will only make your betrayal that much sweeter._

The Bothan aide, a young female with soft brown eyes and pale cream fur, was clearly uncomfortable with all the direct attention and yet unwilling to break down.

"You are sure that Senator Orn Free Taa intended the gesture as an indication of sexual interest?" Obi-Wan asked her one more time, more for Anakin and Padmé's benefit than out of any real doubt as to the answer.

"Master Kenobi," the young aide assured him with great dignity, "the ruffling of one's nose-fur is widely known to be a gesture of great intimacy among my people."

'I believe you," said Obi-Wan gently. "My concern is whether Senator Taa is indeed as well-informed as you think. Is it possible that you may be giving his multicultural education too much credit?"

"Master Kenobi," interrupted Palpatine with still more dignity than the accuser, "I am afraid Miss Beiy'ssa has a point. Ignorance is no excuse. If Senator Taa wishes to employ a multicultural staff that crosses special barriers, he has some obligation to educate himself in order to prevent exactly such incidents as these. He could have avoided the whole problem by hiring a Twi'lek staff."

"I believe," said Obi-Wan, striving for patience, "that Senator Taa altered the composition of his office staff precisely to avoid the accusations of sexual profligacy that ensued from his employment of Twi'lek females."

Palpatine spread his hands. "There you have it, Master Kenobi. The Sneator was aware of the dangers. And - if I may say so - the need to replace his staff once already does not speak well for him. _Where there's smoke there's fire_, you know."

In this extremity of specious reasoning, Obi-Wan turned to Padmé as the frequent voice of reason. But the senior Senator from Naboo looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, Master Kenobi," she said. "If Senator Taa does have a reputation for being overly familiar with his aides, there is every reason to suppose that it is deserved. Our first concern must be to protect this young woman."

"Have _you_ ever witnessed this excessive familiarity?" Obi-Wan pressed her.

Padmé hesitated. "He is certainly friendly with the Senate chamber aides."

"Maybe he's just _friendly_," Anakin suggested, with a sort of odd vehemence that Obi-Wan found it hard to place.

Ryn walked in and shut the door behind her. "Here," she said, tossing a bright green bundle at Padmé. She refocused on Palpatine. "Senator Orn Free Taa just made a pass at me in the hallway. It's not looking good for him."

"Oh, dear," said Obi-Wan.

Palpatine looked serious and resigned.

Padmé shook out the bundle and stared at it. "This isn't mine."

"No, it's mine," Ryn said. "And I want it back when you're done. Damn thing's worth more than my life."

Padmé held the garment up, still staring at its garish splendor. "Are those Brithian topaz?"

"Yes," said Ryn. "Looked like your style."

Obi-wan had to run a hand over his beard to hide a smile. He wasn't used to hearing Ryn deliver politely veiled insults; to tell the truth, he hadn't thought she had it in her. But the jab at Padmé's admittedly opulent taste was well-aimed.

"I'd no idea you kept track of fashions," said Palpatine blandly, and Ryn gave him a smile with too many teeth in it.

"Oh, Senator Amidala's sense of style is famous," she said.

The young Bothan looked fascinated; probably she was trying to memorize the undercurrents for posterity.

_What you're seeing here,_ Obi-Wan thought at her, _is a love triangle. Force help us all._

He cleared his throat, bent on redirecting the conversation before one of the women drew blood or Anakin did something rash to stop them. "Fashion aside, gentlebeings, we have to decide what to do about Senator Orn Free Taa."

"Why?" asked Ryn, and they all turned to stare at her.

But you couldn't make Ryn talk that way. Instead of explaining herself, she folded her arms and assumed a relaxed stance, apparently prepared to wait until they either broke down and asked or came up with some conclusions of their own.

Obi-wan had a private theory that Ryn's plan for defeating the Separatists would be to just _wait_ them to death.

Baiy'ssa broke first. "The Senator was _harassing_ me!" she protested, sounding about as intimidating as a Bothan with a lamentably high-pitched voice could, which was not at all.

"So?" said Ryn. She did unimpressed pretty well. Probably she'd had a lot of practice lately. "Sue him or don't." She shifted her gaze to Obi-Wan. "It's none of our business."

"There will be a scandal," said Padmé doubtfully.

"Well, the Senator should have thought of that before he stroked somebody's fur," said Ryn, low on sympathy today. "_If_ he did, which under Republic law will have to be proven." Her sharp green eyes rested on Beiy'ssa. "Right now it's your word against his."

"You said he just made a pass at you!" Anakin exclaimed, but Obi-Wan could see where Ryn was going with this, because he'd already gotten there himself.

"I told you: I'm a cynic," Ryn said to Anakin, but there was a gleam of humor in her eyes, that not-quite-smile that lit her face when she was teasing. "Besides, Senators are notoriously predatory."

"I beg your pardon?" gasped Padmé, outraged. She had put on Ryn's translucent green wrap, dazzling with jewels, and her arms flashed under the lights as she gestured.

Ryn's smile could have flayed a wild gundark. "You heard me."

"_Ryn,_" said Anakin, plainly sensing disaster.

"What?" Ryn asked him, implacable. "You don't think half the Senate is sleeping with their help?" She turned to Padmé. "_Name_ a Senator who's never slept with an aide or a bodyguard or a receptionist."

Padmé choked, her mouth working, but it was hard to tell whether that was because she couldn't come up with a name or because she was justly furious.

Obi-Wan fought the urge to strangle his heretical friend. "Ryn's right about one thing," he said, cutting into the argument before anyone could comment on the fact that Padmé wasn't naming _herself_. The other five looked at him expectantly. "Making accusations without going to court is a good way to ruin Senator Taa's reputation without having to _prove_ anything."

Beiy'ssa looked near tears. "But how can I prove anything?" she wailed. "We were _alone!_"

"And, if I may say so," Palpatine interjected, "this would hardly be the first such accusation to attach itself to Senator Taa."

Obi-Wan glanced at Ryn, but apparently she had done her damage for the day. _How very kriffing helpful_, he thought, more angry with her than he'd ever been with Anakin and Padmé. At least they'd recognized the destructiveness of their behavior and altered course, at great personal cost. Ryn was just ...

_Furious. She's furious. But out of jealousy, or because she thinks - _knows_ - that Padmé broke her friend's heart? _

His conscience was a treacherous whisper in his breast: _And whose fault is that?_

"We can start by getting you out of the Senator's sphere of influence," Palpatine was saying to Beiy'ssa in soothing tones. "Then ... the Jedi can investigate the rest."

"How, sir?" asked Anakin.

"I'm sure I don't know," answered Palpatine, giving him an avuncular smile. "But it can't be the first time you've had to search for the truth in spite of obstacles."

That made Anakin stand straighter. "No, sir."

"Good." Palpatine favored the room with a more general expression of geniality. "It's a start, at least. Commander Orun, if you could escort Miss Beiy'ssa to her room and make sure she is undisturbed, I will instruct my assistant to arrange transport for her."

"That's not necessary," said Beiy'ssa quickly. "I can finish out this last -"

"We wouldn't dream of putting you through such a thing," said Palpatine, and Beiy'ssa caved and preceded Ryn out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. This story is purely a work of nonsense fan fiction, and I am not making any profit from it. Chapter title from "On Your Side," by Thriving Ivory.

* * *

><p>[A PARODY OF MANNERS]<p>

**CHAPTER THREE**

**[which way will take us home]**

* * *

><p>Ryn followed Beiy'ssa back to her room, enduring guard duty not only because it was, well, <em>duty<em>, but also because she had nothing better to do. That was depressing as all hell, so she tried not to think about it too much.

Beiy'ssa kept up a steady stream of commentary while she packed,

mostly about the injustice of Orn Free Taa's advances, but she hadn't come up with anything new to say and she wasn't hurting anything by repeating herself to Ryn, so Ryn just leaned against the doorframe in silence and waited for her to get it out of her system, listening with half an ear for contradictions or inconsistencies in her story while she considered what she knew about the Senator from Ryloth.

It wasn't much. He had a serious overeating problem and no backbone, but the one wasn't hurting anything but his waistline and the other was true of half the damn Senate. Together they suggested poor impulse control, but while that might lead him to make ill-advised passes at young women out of nowhere, Ryn doubted whether he would have the energy to follow up on those advances over the female's protests. Taa struck her more as an opportunist than a determined lecher. Besides ... Ryn cast another look at Beiy'ssa, and sucked her teeth gracelessly. (An old, bad habit from when she'd gotten some of the front ones knocked loose, years ago now.) Even accounting for interspecies standards of attractiveness, Orn Free Taa, she was almost positive, could do better.

"What are you staring at?" Beiy'ssa snapped at her.

"You," said Ryn, because she had no skill in lying at all.

"Why?"

"Trying to figure out why Senator Orn Free Taa would hit on you."

"Trying to - he's a _pervert_, isn't it obvious?"

"Not really," Ryn said. She didn't elaborate, mostly because Beiy'ssa seemed to want her to.

Sure enough, Beiy'ssa couldn't hold the silence. "He did it to you, too!" she exclaimed in frustration. "You said -"

"Yeah, he made a pass," Ryn said, still trying the idea on for size. It wasn't much of a story. Evinne would say it didn't have an arc. She probed the plot holes carefully, feeling her way. "But I don't work for him, and he didn't _harass_ me." She stuck her hands in her pockets and cocked her head at Beiy'ssa. "I took it as a compliment."

"A comp - _why_?"

"Well, he found me attractive," Ryn pointed out.

Beiy'ssa gaped at her, which on a Bothan looked kind of a strange. "Have you no _standards_?"

"I haven't really explored them yet," Ryn said, dead-pan.

It took a minute, Beiy'ssa staring at her with her ears flickering back and forth, but finally she said, hesitantly: "Was that ... a joke? You're teasing me?"

Ryn held up her thumb and forefinger, maybe a centimeter apart. "Little bit," she said, when Beiy'ssa radiated confusion instead of _oh-I-get-it-now_.

Beiy'ssa smoothed her fur, a little stuffily. Her sense in the Force was ... nonplussed, slightly puzzled. "I don't really understand human humor," she said at last.

Ryn grinned at her with all her mediocre charm. "Enjoy the mystery."

* * *

><p>Planning a party for Padmé's associates had seemed like a good idea at the time.<p>

That was before she'd met them.

Bail Organa and his wife were all right. The Jedi could be depended on to conduct themselves with something approaching decorum in public, even though Sola privately suspected that Anakin was going to be sneaking into her baby sister's room at night. Mon Mothma seemed gracious, if cool. Everyone else ... Sola took a brief stock of her guests and sighed.

"All right!" she said, clapping her hands for attention. "The evening's entertainment is about to begin! Tonight we have charades, so everyone to my left, you will be Team Blue, and everyone on my right, you will be Team Red. May the best team win!"

The Jedi were declared the judges, on the grounds that they had plenty of practice in mediating sticky disputes. Orun would have liked to have been exempted with them, but as Obi-Wan Kenobi pointed out - twinkling mischievously - she had considerably more experience in starting fights than ending them.

"So does Anakin," Orun muttered truculently, but she trooped obediently to join Team Red, captained by the unfortunate Jar Jar Binks.

Orun quickly proved that her reluctance was well-founded; she had no talent for charades, and Sola, on Team Blue, could easily see that her companions were ready to throttle her halfway through her first turn on the floor. She was no good at deciphering the charades of others, either; she watched the proceedings with a sort of academic fascination, clearly baffled.

Breha Organa, though, proved to have a real gift for mime, much to her spouse's pride. And Senator Orn Free Taa did such a comically exaggerated portrayal of himself at a banquet that he brought the house down laughing. Padmé was no better at the miming than she ever was, but her guessing skills had improved enough to give Team Blue an advantage, so that they won by a fair margin. The winners got to choose the next morning's amusement, and after a brief consultation decided on a walk to the nearby waterfalls for sightseeing. Sola caught the way Padmé's eyes immediately flashed to Skywalker, but nobody else seemed to have noticed, so she kept her mouth shut.

Anakin covered with more aplomb than she remembered him having. "There are some places up there that are very beautiful," he said, smiling only a little bit too tenderly at Padmé. "I had an opportunity to visit some of them when I was escorting Senator Amidala last year." This last was directed at Mothma, who had suggested the walking party, but he finished it with a quick, blinding smile for Padmé. "I have always said Naboo is one of the most beautiful planets I have ever encountered. Coming here always feels like coming home."

Padmé blushed, her eyes like stars. "I'm glad you feel that way," she said, a little too intent to affect gracious distance. "Naboo will always be glad to see you."

"That's right," said Senator Organa, breaking in with a timely intervention. "You ought in the Battle of Naboo, didn't you, Jedi Skywalker?"

"He destroyed the droid control ship," Kenobi said, his tone touched with paternal pride. "Although I distinctly remember Qui-Gon telling him to stay put."

"Not true!" Anakin protested, laughing. "He told me to stay in the cockpit. And I did!" Orun threw her napkin at him, the room dissolved into giggles at his expense, and the crisis was averted.

Sola took a deep breath and glanced sidelong at her sister. _I hope you know what you're doing, Padmé_.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Y'all may not have noticed, but the fact of the matter is, I don't own Star Wars. Consequently, I am not making any profit from this story - which, after all, is purely a work of fan fiction.

Chapter title from "Start Me Up," by The Rolling Stones.

**PARODY OF MANNERS **

**chapter four **

**[dead man come]**

Ryn took another sip of her gin and tonic and surveyed the object of her mission this evening with less than no enthusiasm. _Obi-Wan Kenobi, you owe me one._

She spotted Orn Free Taa looking in her direction, steeled herself, and raised her glass a little in acknowledgement before forcing a half-smile. It was kind of a sorry effort, but Ryn had learned the hard way that most men just took that as an air of mystery.

She knocked back some more gin and turned away to wait.

"A woman so beautiful should be holding a drink to match," Taa's voice said at her shoulder, and Ryn turned to give him a tight little smile, which was the best she could currently manage. "Let me get you something."

"I don't want to be upstaged by my drink," Ryn pointed out blandly.

Senator Taa laughed as though she had made a very good joke. "You are in no danger of that, I assure you." He leered appreciatively at her figure, which to be fair was pretty graphically on display. Ryn didn't figure the sequins were hiding much.

"I thank you for the thought," she said, because that sounded better than _cool off, you lecherous bastard_. "But as you can see, my glass is still half-full." She swirled the liquid in her glass for emphasis, and then tried to inject some curiosity into her voice as she peered at the enormous soup-tureen of a glass Orn Free Taa was holding. "What are you drinking yourself?"

Taa waved the concoction dangerously close to Ryn's head. "A Corellian Sunrise!" he wheezed enthusiastically. "Best drink in the system! Here, try it!" He thrust the glass at her face, and Ryn grabbed it one-handed to save her teeth.

She sipped obligingly and almost gagged. The flavor wasn't _bad_, but it was like drinking syrup. "Mmm," she said, because that was the only thing she could get out with her teeth clenched against the reflex to spit.

Orn Free Taa beamed at her. "Isn't it delicious?"

"It's ... sweet!" Ryn gasped, floundering for something other than _how can you drink this?_

It worked; Taa chuckled delightedly. "As are you, little treasure," he assured her in what he probably thought was a gallant manner.

Ryn just found it patronizing, but fortunately her personal preferences were not at issue here. "I'm flattered." _I'm appalled._

"Now let me get you one."

Ryn put her glass down on the patio railing. "I have a better idea," she said, smiling up at him in her best imitation of Obi-Wan's charm. "It's too lovely a night to be drinking indoors. I'd much rather stroll under the stars outside." She gestured to the bright night beyond the patio torches and added, lowering her voice in what she hoped was a suitably suggestive manner, "It's so crowded in here."

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes later, Ryn had developed an unexpected appreciation for Orn Free Taa's skills as a lover, and some serious doubts about Beiy'ssa's judgment.<p>

Orn Free Taa wasn't physically attractive, that was true. At least, _corpulent_ and _blue_ had never been high on Ryn's list of turn-ons - even assuming she had a list that did not consist entirely of _Anakin Skywalker_. But he was gentle and cheerful, and that was a hell of a lot more than most men in the galaxy seemed ready to offer.

A woman could do a lot worse.

They had walked in the moonlight, Taa touching her lightly on the shoulder or the arms or at the small of her back, and when he had tugged her aside into a conveniently thick stand of trees, Ryn had reluctantly allowed it, thinking with a sinking feeling _Oh, hell, this is where I have to kick him in the balls_.

But inside the trees, Taa hadn't made a move - at least, not the kind Ryn was expecting. Instead of hauling her into a grasping embrace, he ran his hands down her back, pulling her gently closer, cradling her as though she were something breakable.

"So beautiful," he murmured, touching the bare skin of her back, the silk-draped curve of her behind. "A delectable little morsel." Ryn tried not to snigger at being compared to food; coming from Orn Free Taa, it was probably high praise. But it was the _contentment_ radiating from him that got her: he was genuinely delighted, if a little puzzled, to have her there. He cupped her bottom and squeezed gently. "Do you like that, Sweet?"

"Um," said Ryn, not sure how butt-squeezing fit into her overall mission here, or her own sexual preferences. "It's not bad."

This made Orn Free Taa laugh wheezily, but then most things did. "Not bad?" he repeated, releasing her. "That's not saying much, my treasure. We can do better." He wrapped one hand around her waist and drew her close again. "Close your eyes."

"Why?" Ryn asked, shutting them obediently as she stretched out with her senses for any hint of danger.

"So nothing can distract you from this." His fingers graced her chest, and then Ryn jerked in surprise as he flicked one nipple with his thumb. He laughed again and repeated the gesture. "That's it, little treasure. Just let go."

He eased his warm hand down her stomach, lightly massaging, and tugged her skirt up to -

Ryn's eyes shot open on a startled gasp. "Oh! What are you -"

"Tish," Taa scolded her. "You won't enjoy this nearly as much with your eyes open, I assure you."

Ryn blinked at him in surprise, and then relaxed as she caught the twinkle in his eye. "That's not a very seductive speech," she pointed out.

Taa shook his finger at her. "That depends on what you want, Sweet. There is something to be said for experience and self-knowledge." He shot her a narrow glance. "But I have not entertained illusions of sporting under the stars with beautiful young women since before you were born."

Ryn winced. "In other words: I'm caught." She frowned at him. "Then why -"

"Oh ... vanity, my dear." Taa tucked his head in thought, one chin disappearing into the next. "Sometimes, when we are old and foolish, we wish to be pretend that youth and beauty still desire us on our own merits." He shook his head, wheezing laughter again. "Although I am afraid that you would have been well above my price range when I was young enough to enjoy you!"

"I am not for hire," Ryn answered stiffly. And then, to his disbelieving look: "I work for the Jedi. Not ... for hire."

Orn Free Taa's psychic signature was tinged with confusion. "The Jedi are ... _pandering_ you?"

"No!" Ryn gasped, horrified. Then she thought about it. "Well, maybe they are, but it's all in a good cause. Or, I mean, they think it is."

The Senator from Ryloth regarded her sternly. "You're not making sense."

"No," Ryn agreed, not quite suppressing a sigh. "I'm not." _Damn it, Obi-Wan, why'd you leave me to defend your ... indefensible ... scheming?_

"I assume," Taa went on, watching her, "you have me under surveillance of some kind."

"Yes." Ryn shot him a wary look. "But I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to tell you for what."

"Very sensible." Taa patted her arm. "I was merely going to suggest that, if you don't mind mixing business with pleasure, and if you can be flexible about the ... stars, I am still fully capable of satisfying a woman."

Ryn goggled at him. "_What?_"

Orn Free Taa sighed at her stupidity. "Give me half an hour in a _bedroom_ -" he broke off to survey Sola's well-tended garden as though it were an unspeakable wilderness " - and if you are not thoroughly sated, I promise you can go back to your ... er, attempts at stealth."

Ryn stared at him a moment longer, but he just beamed back, waiting patiently for his answer. If she hadn't been probing for his intentions, she wouldn't have caught the flicker of anxious hope.

"Well, when you put it that way," she said, and took his arm.

Half an hour later, she was shouting the rafters down.

* * *

><p>"Extraordinary," said Darth Sidious, studying the video feed from Orn Free Taa's chambers. "I wonder what young Skywalker would say if he knew his lovelorn friend were cavorting upside-down with one of the greediest members of the Senate." He threw back his hood and folded the cloak into a hidden compartment of his traveling case. "But a much better question would be: how can I get <em>him<em> to do the same thing?"


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. This story is purely a work of fan fiction, from which I am not making any profit.

Chapter title is a cliché, but in this case it was inspired by "One and Only," from ADELE.

**A PARODY OF MANNERS**

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**[nobody's perfect]**

"Padmé," Anakin panted, hanging onto the headboard and the fragile shreds of his self-control with equal fervor. "Tell me ... what you need, Sweetheart."

Padmé would like to do just that; it sounded wonderful. It was awful to disappoint him, when he was working so _hard_ to bring them both to fulfillment. But the truth was, she didn't know the answer to his question: she didn't know _what_ she needed, only that she needed it _bad_, and most of her shaky concentration was invested in not bucking her hips at him like some kind of harlot.

_Ryn would probably move like a harlot._

There were several problems with this thought. The first was that she was _thinking_, not enjoying the feel of Anakin moving inside her. (He surged again, pulling her hips tighter against his, and Padmé bit her lip to keep from crying out, but then he pulled away again and it was gone.) Another was that Anakin had never actually come out and said he'd ever slept with Ryn, and Padmé couldn't bring herself to ask him about it. It was none of her business in the first place; it wasn't like she'd been waiting on _him_, all those years, when she still thought of him as that little boy she left on Tatooine. But she wasn't sure she could bear to ask and hear him say that Ryn was better. (_He wouldn't_, her common sense whispered, but worry was louder.) And usually she didn't think about Ryn when she and Anakin were together - well, not obsessively, anyway. But this time she was _right here_, under the same roof, loose and available and crazy about Anakin. And she probably wouldn't hesitate to make a fool of herself, throw dignity to the wind and just, yes, _fuck_ with abandon ...

Padmé couldn't possibly compete with that, anyway. All she could do was try to make love like a lady and hope that Anakin preferred the love of a good woman to Ryn's harlot tricks, like ... like ...

"Padmé, love," Anakin gasped raggedly, running his hand down her body, "... just ... come on ..."

Ryn would probably rake her nails down his back and scream at him to take her _harder_, wrap her legs around his hips and ...

Padmé carefully uncurled her fingers and took a deep breath, forcing her knees to straighten.

"Padmé, I can't ... can't ... unnnnngh." Anakin shuddered, eyes squeezing shut, and collapsed, trembling, in her arms.

She held him close and petted his hair, damp with sweat.

"Was that ..." he was still breathing hard; she could feels his ribs heaving against hers "... good? For you?"

He met her eyes anxiously, and Padmé panicked and pasted on a smile. "Perfect, my love."

The look that came over his face then almost _was_.

[~~~]

Obi-wan found his operative on the patio, wrapped in something diaphanous that didn't fill any of the usual functions of clothing and dragging on a death stick.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to tell her _those things will kill you_, and then he got a good look at her face in profile and realized that it wasn't the death sticks that were killing her.

"Rough night?" he said instead.

Ryn shrugged and flicked ash over the railing. "Not too bad." She took another drag and added reflectively, "I don't know whether Senator Taa made a move on his assistant or not, but I can tell you that if she turned him down, it was her loss."

She sounded bitter about it. Obi-Wan studied the clean line of her back in the moonlight, tense and straight and somehow desperately unhappy. "That good, huh?"

Another twitchy little shrug. "Free doesn't have to play, he just likes to watch the game."

Obi-Wan thought, _Free?_ But he watched her take in more toxic, intoxicating fumes while he tried to work through that one. "I'm not familiar with that expression," he said finally.

Ryn blew smoke at him, the image of every rebel without a prayer. "Means he can't keep it up, but he likes to see someone else have a good time." She shook her head. "He's a little weird, but he's not a sexual predator, Obi-Wan. Doesn't the Republic have anything better to do than chase down dirty old men?"

At least part of Ryn's problems right now were his fault, so Obi-Wan tried to keep his patience with her. "If he is behaving suggestively toward his Senatorial staff, that is still a violation of the ban -"

"Yeah," said Ryn, turning to face him with that wry grin that was all in her eyes. It looked more bitter than he remembered. "How is Satine, by the way?"

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes at her. "Your sense of humor is reprehensible."

Ryn drew on the death stick, hard enough to hollow her cheeks. "There's a war on," she reminded him, blowing a smoke ring. "And this is what the Jedi are worried about? The sex lives of lusty aristocrats?"

Obi-Wan glanced at the mostly-empty bottle of alcohol beside her and sighed. "Does Loreth have sexual harassment legislation?"

Ryn grinned at him, only swaying a little bit. "We don't even have harassment."

Obi-Wan folded his arms and gazed at her coolly. "No one on your world has ever been pressured to have sex?"

That look didn't work on Ryn even when she was sober. "Sure." Ryn swayed again and turned it, most unfairly, into a cheeky swagger. "But then you just tell everybody they weren't any good."

Obi-Wan lifted one eyebrow. "And this strategy works?"

"Oh, hell yeah." Ryn nudged the bottle with the blade of her foot, flipping it into the air so she could catch it, one-handed. Galactic reflexes, going to waste before his eyes. "Don't get mad, get even." She sucked down the last of her death stick, tossed the butt aside, and yanked out the stopper on the gin bottle. "Drink?"

Obi-Wan looked at her in the darkness, beautiful and talented and utterly lost. "No, thank you."

Ryn shrugged one last time and went back to drowning her sorrows, and Obi-Wan left her alone, feeling uncomfortably aware that he had entirely too good an idea what those sorrows were.

[~~~]

"This is as good as a holovid," Breha Organa declared, leaning into her husband's arm as they both peered over the edge of the stairwell in center of the house to watch the comings and goings. Top of the list: Senator Orn Free Taa's aide Beiy'ssa was canoodling with a Rodian from Mon Mothma's entourage. "Doesn't anyone ever stay in their own room at these things?"

Bail kissed the top of his wife's head. "I do."

She tugged at his arm, drawing him back toward the door of their suite with a mischievous grin. "Show me."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. This story is purely a work of fan fiction, and I am not making any profit from it.

Chapter title from "Last Friday Night," by Katy Perry.

* * *

><p><strong>A PARODY OF MANNERS: CHAPTER 6: pink flamingoes in the pool<strong>

Palpatine accepted Obi-Wan Kenobi's early-morning report with equanimity, managing to look appropriately surprised in part because he _had_ been, a few hours earlier. Orun and Orn Free Taa was a combination not even the Dark Side had seen coming.

"And you say the young lady insists it was all entirely consensual?" he inquired mildly.

"Oh, yes. Commander Orun is definite on that point - and anyway, I doubt there's anyone in this house who could force her into anything. She's a survivor."

_So I see._ Losing Ryn early in the war would certainly have had a destabilizing effect on Anakin's state of mind; so far, however, her skills had been proof against even Grievous's efforts. "So much the better," Palpatine said aloud. "I must admit, I shouldn't like to think that we had put such an innocent young woman in any unnecessary danger." Ryn was about as innocent as a Hutt gaming table, but there was no good reason why Supreme Chancellor Palpatine should know that. "But I feel compelled to point out, Master Kenobi, that Commander Orun's ... willingness ... does not automatically remove Taa from suspicion."

"No, but she's an excellent judge of character," said Obi-Wan stiffly. And the young woman manifestly did not like Palpatine himself, so it might even be true. "And she is convinced that Orn Free Taa is more of an ... opportunist ... than a sexual predator." Kenobi cleared his throat. "In that case, sir, it is entirely possible that Senator Taa merely misunderstood Beiy'ssa's own intentions. Which would be unfortunate, but hardly criminal."

"It would still be a violation of the Senate's ban on fraternization." Palpatine pretended to consider. "For that matter, so would his liaison with our young friend last night."

Even Jedi training could not completely obscure the blush that spread across Kenobi's face. "Ryn does not work for the Senate."

"But she must, Master Kenobi," Palpatine said, forcing his eyes wider than they were wont to go in mimesis of earnest. "Is she not an officer in the Grand Army of the Republic?"

Obi-Wan folded his arms in a gesture that would probably have been familiar to Anakin Skywalker; Palpatine could _feel_ the effort he was spending to maintain his composure. "I was under the impression that that ban was intended to protect the junior aides from the predations of their more powerful employers."

"I must say, I should think Miss Orun would be considered very junior by anyone's standard," said Palpatine determinedly. "Has she even reached her majority?"

The Jedi's mouth tightened. "_Commander_ Orun is one of the most mature and responsible beings for her age I have ever met. I trust her judgment implicitly."

"Oh, quite," said Palpatine quickly. "I was merely ... I have never felt entirely comfortable with the ... youth of the active Jedi. I was even uneasy sending your former Padawan here to Naboo last year, though you know I have the greatest confidence in Anakin."

The way Obi-Wan's jaw twitched suggested he had some doubts on that score as well. Perhaps he had a better idea of what had happened here, not quite a year ago, than Palpatine had yet guessed. "I assure you, your Excellency, the Jedi are very well attuned to the needs of their apprentices - and I will vouch for Commander Orun myself. We never assign more than a being can handle."

_Master Kenobi, I have underestimated you._ The man was a superb liar.

"Yes, of course," Palpatine conceded. "Well, all we can do at this point is try to find Beiy'ssa a position in which she feels more comfortable."

Obi-Wan bowed. "I defer to your judgment, Chancellor."

[~~~]

"How're you doing?" Anakin asked, somewhere off to her left, and Ryn shaded her eyes with one hand and squinted in his general direction as he sauntered closer.

"Hungover," she answered. "But okay. You?"

Anakin drew a deep breath of the morning air, glowing with sex and satisfaction in the sunlight. "I'm fine."

Ryn looked him over again. "You might want to dial it down a little," she told him. "A blind toad could see you got laid last night."

"Always so genteel," said Anakin, making Ryn snort with amusement in spite of herself, pathetically happy to be near him even if they were discussing his night with another women.

"You're the one broadcasting," she said, struggling to keep her cool, and when Anakin grinned back at her, she knew it was in tatters anyway.

"No one will know who it was."

"They will if you keep staring at Padmé the way you did last night," Ryn said, still trying to save his ass because she didn't know how to do anything else. "Couldn't you play a little harder to get?"

"Padmé can have me any way she wants me," Anakin said with cheerful conviction.

Ryn winced as her stomach lurched, churning the half-bowl of fruit and liter of caf she'd had for breakfast. "I didn't need to know."

"Oh." Anakin's presence was instantly contrite. "You're right. I'm sorry."

It wasn't gracious, but it was genuine; and it wasn't Anakin's fault, anyway, that she was hopelessly in love with him.

"It's okay," Ryn said, trying hard to mean it. "Just try not to jump her in the middle of the picnic. I think someone would notice."

Anakin surveyed the crowd. "I wouldn't place any bets," he said judiciously. "But I'll play it safe anyway. Stang, what a crowd."

"They're not the brightest lasers in the weapons bank," Ryn said, and when Anakin looked at her funny, she shrugged. "I'm trying on Basic vernacularisms."

"I don't know what that means," Anakin said, "but I don't think it's working for you."

Ryn shrugged again and went back to watching the crowd, more out of habit than because she expected anybody to stage a coup in the middle of the orchard. She was trying to decide whether Rodian standards of dress required much less covering than was usual among humans, or the junior aide was just really keen to show her assets, when Anakin spoke again.

"I heard you got some last night, too."

Ryn cocked her head at him, silently cursing the sunlight that scoured through her head. "Talked to Obi-Wan?"

"Yeah." Anakin folded his arms and studied Orn Free Taa. "Although your Senator hasn't exactly been subtle, either."

Ryn followed his gaze to where Free was cheerfully grandstanding, munching on some type of confection and taking plenty of opportunities to gaze knowingly at her.

"No," she agreed, sizing him up. "I guess not."

She felt Anakin shift beside her. "Do you ... uh ... want me to do something?"

Ryn frowned. "Something like what?"

"I don't know." Discomfort sharpened in Anakin's presence. "You know. Take care of it. _Explain_ things to him."

_Explain what?_ Ryn started to say, but then she knew. "No," she said, but Anakin just gave her a worried look. "It's okay," she tried again. "I mean, he was good to me last night. If a little gloating the morning after makes him happy, then I don't want to spoil his party. It's not like he's hurting me."

"He's hurting your reputation."

Ryn tried to roll her eyes, and then regretted it when the activity threw flares of pain through all her nerves. "I don't think anyone here thinks highly enough of me to be disappointed," she said, but of course this was just a recipe for exciting Anakin further.

"Why not?" he demanded. And then, taking in her face - "Has someone said something?"

"No," Ryn said, backing away a little. "Just, you know, this isn't my kind of crowd."

"_What?_" Anakin's eyes narrowed on her. "If this is because you're from ... outside the Republic, do _not_ worry about that. You deserve respect just as much as anybody here."

"Probably more," Ryn agreed. "And that's not it, anyway. I mean, they think I'm a barbarian, but that's not what I meant. They think I'm ... you know. _Easy_."

"Oh." Anakin scowled, but the expression was thoughtful rather than angry. "Well, I could -"

"No, you couldn't," Ryn said, pretty sure that whatever he had in mind, it was unlikely to mend her reputation. "Look, it's all right. Okay? I don't care what they think. I'm just saying, there's nothing to protect here. And I can take care of myself, anyway." He looked doubtful, so she nudged him with her shoulder. "Come on. You worry too much."

The beginnings of a smile lit Anakin's eyes. "You're the only person who tells me that."

"Then you're talking to the wrong people." She nudged him again. "It's going to be okay. Okay?"

"Okay," said Anakin. He looked back across the group gathered at the near end of the orchard. "But if anybody makes a wrong move, you let me know."

"If anybody makes a wrong move, I will take care of it myself," Ryn answered repressively. Then she grinned, an effort that seemed to take more energy than defeating half the Separatist army. "But thanks anyway."

[~~~]

Padmé came around the corner of the gazebo and saw the glint of sunlight on Anakin's hair ... and the girl standing next to him, dark as a shadow in the morning, leaning into his body in broad daylight. She sucked in her breath and then startled at Palpatine's voice.

"They certainly look friendly," he said, his voice touched with amusement, and Padmé turned in time to see him gesture toward Anakin and his ... _friend, she's his friend_.

"Ah ... yes," Padmé stammered, trying to calm her racing heart. She couldn't reveal more than friendly concern, couldn't ...

"I'm so glad that young Anakin has found a companion within the Jedi Order," Palpatine went on, and Padmé clenched her fists in her skirts. "Oh - I know she isn't a Jedi _officially_, but still. She can be there on the front lines when the rest of us are sitting safe at home, you know." He favored the two of them with an avuncular smile just as Ryn turned her face up to Anakin's and laughed. "I'm delighted that you invited both of them, Senator Amidala. Such a kind gesture."

"It was my sister's decision," Padmé bit out, hearing stone in her own voice.

"Of course," said Palpatine, and Padmé stalked off to make war on the woman who was chasing her husband.

[~~~]

Sola looked up the from the letter her mother had sent in a mixture of exasperation and despair.

"Palo is coming," she told her desk. "Whatever am I going to tell Padmé?"


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. I am not making any profit from this work of fan fiction.

Chapter title from "Newborn," by Joss Stone.

Feedback, comments, and suggestions are very welcome! :)

* * *

><p><strong>A PARODY OF MANNERS<strong>

**CHAPTER SEVEN **

**~ let's treat this day~**

Obi-Wan sipped his drink cautiously, reasonably certain that there was more alcohol in it than anyone not thoroughly addicted to the substance could deem advisable at this hour of the day. "Ryn," he said, because Anakin was no use for this sort of thing and because he wanted to keep her busy, "have you any idea what this stuff is?"

Ryn obligingly turned from her determinedly polite efforts to make conversation with Breha Organa - Breha was a fine being, but as far as Obi-Wan could tell, she and Ryn had nothing in common other than bipedality - and squinted at his glass. She was squinting a lot this morning; Obi-Wan couldn't tell whether this were an after-effect of her night of drunken misery, or merely an expression of her habitual distaste for bright lights of any kind. "Looks like maybe shurra juice," she pronounced reflectively.

She held out her hand for the glass, and Obi-Wan turned it over. Ryn took it and held it to the light, squinting even more deeply. "Definitely juice. You can see the particulate matter suspended -"

"What?" said Breha, laughing. "Are you accusing Sola of serving dirt in our drinks?"

"Er - no, sorry," said Ryn, evidently not recognizing Breha's teasing tone. "I just meant that there's pulp." She brought the glass down and took a cautious sip, grimacing at the bite. "And alcohol. Distilled liquor: best guess, some kind of gin."

"You would know," said Obi-Wan drily, and Ryn rolled her eyes as she handed the cup back - and then winced, turning a shade of green that, even on Ryn, was decidedly unattractive.

"Hangover?" Obi-Wan inquired solicitously, and Ryn shot him a flaying look.

"Oh, fuck you," Ryn said with feeling. Breha blinked in shock, but Anakin smothered a grin. "Anyway, I can't tell you why it's staying in suspension. A saline additive to the liquor might do it, but there's nothing to taste."

"Padmé told me that all the treats for the picnic were locally produced," Breha offered, still looking askance at Ryn.

"Naboo has one of the mot generous eco-systems in the galaxy," Anakin reported with a touch of pride, and Ryn almost - but not quite - hid her flinch.

Breha smiled at him, politely ignoring Ryn's reaction. "I would imagine that you are something of an honorary citizen here, after your adventure at the Battle of Naboo."

"Jedi do not have homeworld citizenships," Anakin answered demurely. "But I will admit, Naboo has always felt like home to me."

Ryn's face darkened, and Obi-Wan moved to distract her. "It certainly does possess an abundance of natural resources," he said quickly. "Particularly in flora. Ryn, do you think these meadow flowers are at all similar to the ones that attract jewel-bees on Bellassa?"

Ryn narrowed her eyes at him in a way that said she knew what he was up to, but she bent over to study the plants in question anyway. "This looks more like some kind of flowering grass," she said, peering at a bloom centimeters from her nose. "I don't think -"

Padmé's voice cut across her, bright and unexpectedly hard. "Master Kenobi!" she exclaimed, with more enthusiasm than the occasion seemed to warrant. "Has Anakin yet introduced you to our local shurra? He so enjoyed them the last time he was here!"

Ryn swayed woozily, tried to straighten herself, and then dropped ignominiously to her knees, retching violently.

"Wow," said Anakin sympathetically. He reached for her arm, but Ryn waved him off. "Stang, Ryn, are you all right?"

"I - I'm okay," Ryn stammered, settling back on her heels as the heaves died slowly away. "'S what ... I get ... for standing on my head ... like that."

The blatant misery in her Force-presence had nothing to do with a tender stomach, but Anakin didn't comment on that, showing a laudable - and entirely unexpected - discretion.

_He's grown up. It's too easy for me to forget that._

Obi-Wan stepped forward and hauled Ryn to her feet by one arm, ignoring Padmé and Breha's shocked stares and the flicker of ... not pleasure, exactly; more like vindication ... in the former's aura. "Let me walk you back to the house," he offered, but Ryn shook her head.

"No," she rasped. "I'll be all right, in a minute." She dragged in an unsteady breath, her strained face clearing a little. "Just let me ... sit down."

"Can I get you something?" Padmé asked, her better nature rising to the occasion in spite of whatever bitterly futile rivalry stood between them.

_She really is a decent being. No wonder Anakin has never gotten over her._

"No," said Ryn, with tortured dignity. "Thank you."

There was something about the stubborn set of her jaw that made Obi-Wan think better of insisting.

"If you're sure you're all right?" he said.

"Positive," Ryn answered firmly; so he guided her to a seat in the grass a few meters away and left her to her own devices.

She was a big girl; she could take care of herself.

_Probably_.

It's optimistic thinking like that that gets you in trouble.

: : :

Her resentment was not only probably misplaced, but definitely dangerous; Obi-Wan could hardly help but notice it. Padmé struggled with herself, trying to get a grip on her jealous anger - disrupted but not dispersed by Ryn's abrupt indignity. _Anakin loves you_, she told herself. _He shouldn't have to prove it in front of Obi-Wan._

A proposition, she soon saw, that was in all too much danger of being realize; the way Anakin was gazing at her now was confirmation, if Padmé had needed any, that his devotion lay all with her. it was a heady experience, but not one she should be enjoying under his former master's watchful gaze.

She opened her mouth to divert the older Jedi's attention, but then Anakin did it for her:

"Master," he said, glancing past Obi-Wan's shoulder at Ryn as he returned to them. "Will Ryn be all right?"

"She'll be fine once she can keep down some water," Obi-Wan said lightly. "It's just a hangover."

Anakin looked skeptical. "Are you sure -"

"_Anakin,_" said Obi-Wan, gently but repressively. "I think Ryn wants to be alone right now."

Anakin jerked a little, a blush of startled shame washing over his handsome features. _What's this all about?_ Padmé thought; and then Kenobi's gaze flicked sideways to Ryn and she knew. _They had a liaison after all_. She'd suspected it before, of course, and not just last night - had wondered whether it was with his bright barbarian friend that Anakin learned those caresses she loved so much, before they ever came together. But somehow she had never really believed that Anakin was sleeping with Ryn _now_.

She narrowed her eyes at the younger woman, sitting in the grass looking improbably fragile and romantic for someone who a few minutes ago had been hurling vigorously.

"She'll be fine," Breha said, startling Padmé - how could she have forgotten her friend's presence? "She's young; she'll bounce right back."

"I know," said Anakin, nodding reluctantly. "Ryn's tough. I've just never seen her this hungover before." He frowned. "Actually, Ryn doesn't _get_ hungover much."

"Does she drink a great deal?" Padmé inquired, wincing inwardly at her own saccharine tone.

"Not much more than a smuggler on Boonta Eve," Anakin answered, oblivious to the subtext. "All those Lorethans are like that."

Breha blinked. "I thought Lady Orun was the only representative of her people in the Republic?"

"Officially, yes, she is the liaison," Obi-Wan replied, stepping gracefully back into the conversation. "But besides the Exiles, there are a few Lorethan pilots and traders wandering around the galaxy. Mostly young women, owing to some social changes on their home planet."

"Owing to the death rate, you mean," said Anakin, his tone betraying an unexpected bitterness.

Obi-Wan shook his head at his former apprentice, but he moved to explain. "A high percentage of Loreth's young people serve on active duty in their planetary defense force. They start quite young, and many of them never make it to adulthood. The average life expectancy of a child born into Ryn's class - the warrior class - is very low. And until the past generation, it was customary for men to bear the brunt of warfare, with the result that they now have a great many more women than men."

Padmé looked back at her would-be rival, trying to imagine what it must have been like to grow up, expecting to die so young.

"I guess that explains the drinking," she said finally.

"I can only imagine what childhood looks like on Loreth," Obi-Wan agreed. "Anakin spent more time among the people than I did, on our trip there. He can tell you -" He broke off suddenly, as Ryn got shakily to her feet and headed off, with no evident purpose. "Now where in the blazes is she going?"


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. I am not making any profit from this story, which is purely a work of fan fiction.

Chapter title from Taylor Swift's "White Horse."

Special thanks to reviewer angie –– your comments totally made my day! Thank you so much! I'm really glad you're enjoying the story. This latest installment is pretty short, but I hope it meets with your approval. :)

**A PARODY OF MANNERS**

~ CHAPTER EIGHT ~

'cause i honestly believed in you

Probably Padmé and Breha were going to think she was unconscionably rude, but that might be for the best. It almost _had_ to be safer to have them thinking that Ryn Orun was a nasty piece of work than to have them digging through her rather shaky attempts at subterfuge. So Ryn gritted her teeth against the nausea and, yes, some very intense feelings of unresolved jealousy, and proceeded to circumambulate the little picnic group in what she hoped was a suitably aimless manner.

She kept one eye on Beiy'ssa's nonchalant progress and another on Senator Orn Free Taa, not bothering to suppress the shiver of unexpected affection she felt as he raised his glass in her direction, or to hide her answering grin.

_Yes, Free, it was a good night_. She'd had no idea her body was capable of half of what they'd done. But in the harsh light of day - it cut all too sharply into her head - duty intervened again, and she still missed Anakin like an addict misses the drug.

It shouldn't matter. She shouldn't _let_ it matter. Anakin loved Padmé, and Ryn had a job to do.

The sense of loss remained, changing her from the inside out.

And Beiy'ssa was still keeping way too close an eye on the Senator from Ryloth.

It might be nothing ... but Ryn didn't really expect to get that lucky. She eased a throwing knife out of her thigh holster and dropped beneath the surface of thought, into the instinctive hunter's prowl that had stood her in good stead so many times before.

Which was why, when Beiy'ssa sidled up to Taa, smoothing her fur apologetically, and held out an enormous drink, Ryn didn't have to _think_ about what she was doing. She just took aim and released, and her short-hafted knife shattered the glass in Taa's grip, throwing shards of glass into his face and dousing both him and Beiy'ssa with the brilliant yellow liquid.

"Kenobi!" she snapped, pitching her voice for the battlefield out of habit. "Senator, stay -" Beiy'ssa shot her one look, fear and murder in her eyes "- there!" Beiy'ssa broke and ran, and Ryn sprang into pursuit.

Bothans were stronger and faster than ordinary humans, but against a trained Lorethan Ranger in fighting form - even hungover - Beiy'ssa never stood a chance. Ryn tackled her before she could reach the river that was evidently her goal and dragged her forcibly back from the brink.

"Lie still!" she ordered, but the aide wouldn't quit struggling; her panic was so intense, Ryn couldn't even be sure she was processing the words.

And then, abruptly, she stopped: sagging in Ryn's arms, a dead weight.

Literally.

Ryn dropped her and staggered back in shock. "What the -"

"Ryn?" Obi-Wan's voice.

Ryn turned to face him, bewildered. "I don't understand," she said, hearing the hollowness in her own voice. "I didn't hit her hard enough to kill."

"Obviously, you did," said the Supreme Chancellor's voice, and Ryn rotated a few degrees to her left to view him with more than her usual dislike.

"No," she told him, meeting his gaze without flinching. "I did not."

"The investigation will have to decide that," Palpatine answered her, almost certainly not as gravely concerned as he sounded.

_A politician to the core._

Ryn opened her mouth to defend herself, but Anakin beat her to it. "_Investigation?_" he exploded, arriving on the scene full of bombast and guilt. "Sir, you can't seriously -"

"Given Commander Orun's recent association with Senator Taa, how can I not?" the Chancellor demanded sharply. He turned cold gray eyes on Ryn. "It would seem, young lady, that you chose a most inopportune moment to give your ... _baser_ instincts license."

"He's right, Anakin," said Padmé, though to her credit she sounded more genuinely troubled than Palpatine. "The Chancellor can't be seen to play favorites, especially now - with the war. Imagine what Dooku could do with this."

"Indeed," said Palpatine, folding his heads into his voluminous sleeves. "I am sorry, Commander, but we _must_ let justice run its course."

Ryn opened her mouth again, this time to give the Chancellor a piece of her mind, Anakin's friend or no, but Obi-Wan got there first. "_Gentlebeings_," he said, with caustic emphasis, "let us not rush to hasty conclusions. If Commander Orun did not kill Beiy'ssa, then _something_ else must have done. In which case, we may be better served by examining the body than by arguing about publicity."

Palpatine relaxed visibly. "Quite so, Master Kenobi," he said graciously. "I am sure we would all be pleased to find proof of Commander Orun's innocence."

_I doubt that,_ Ryn thought - rather unfairly, as the Chancellor had not been in the habit of treating her with anything but courtesy.

"Ryn," Anakin began, starting toward her, but Ryn shook her head at him.

"I'm fine, Anakin." She rubbed a forming bruise on her temple gingerly. "Let's just find out what's really going on here."

But Obi-Wan was already kneeling over the body. He reached out to touch Beiy'ssa's throat, and then sat back on his heels, holding something gingerly in his fingertips.

"Kaminoan saber-dart," he announced thoughtfully. "Very much like the one that killed Zam Wessel." If you didn't know him, he sounded utterly calm. If you knew him, he was stunned.

"_Kaminoan_?" Ryn said, and then stopped, because she didn't really have anything else to contribute.

"You think the Kaminoans could be playing both sides?" Anakin asked, obviously processing faster than Ryn.

Obi-Wan frowned at the dart. "Possibly. It's a little early for conclusions." He glanced up at Ryn. "Why did you tackle her?"

"I thought it was odd for her to still be here, when she was scheduled to leave the planet this morning," Ryn answered slowly, remembering. "So I tried to keep an eye on her. She spoke to someone I didn't know - a Rodian, but he wasn't wearing any livery I recognized - and went to get a drink. She brought it to Senator Taa, and I sensed ... fear." She shrugged. "After that, I didn't really stop to think."

"You suspected poison?" the Chancellor inquired mildly, his equilibrium evidently restored.

Ryn shrugged again. "Nothing so definite. I only knew that Beiy'ssa's fear was out of place."

Orn Free Taa drew her attention by shuddering violently; Ryn hadn't even realized he'd joined the group at the water's edge. "My dear, your instincts are extraordinary," he said. "Think what could have happened to me!"

Ryn narrowed her eyes, drawn up by a sudden thought. "Still could," she corrected him, stepping forward. "Your robes are soaked with that drink. If there _is_ a poison, and it can be absorbed through the skin ..."

Taa whimpered. It wasn't the most attractive sound Ryn had ever heard, but as reactions to imminent death went, she figured it was pretty understandable.

"Yes, I'm afraid we'll need to get your out of those robes as quickly as possible, Senator," said Obi-Wan, taking charge with his usual graceful efficiency. "We'll need to send them back to the Temple for analysis in any case. Padmé, could you -"

"Of course," said Anakin's wife, stepping forward to take Free's arm with a gracious smile. "Come with me, Senator. I'll show you where to change."

"Better take Ryn with you," Obi-Wa added absently. "She'll feel better for some rest, anyway."

Ryn's jaw tightened. Spend anther five minutes with Amidala? _Thanks a lot, Obi-Wan._ But admitting her distaste for the older woman's company would mean explaining her reasons, and _that_ would mean betraying Anakin's secret. She took a deep breath, fought back a fresh wave of nausea, and met her rival's eyes. "Lead the way, Senator."

: : :

Under the circumstances, it was entirely understandable that by the time Palo arrived in the Lake Country, Sola had completely forgotten to warn her sister of their parents' latest scheme for matchmaking.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. This travesty story is purely a work of fan fiction, and I am not making any profit from it.

Notes: Sadness! You guys, NOT ONE SINGLE PERSON reviewed the last chapter. What's up with that, huh? I know you can do better than this! Step it up, guys! *sad face*

Chapter title from Matchbox Twenty's "Bed of Lies."

**A PARODY OF MANNERS**

**~ CHAPTER NINE ~**

**and they're only a whisper away**

Padmé led the way to a little cabin, just upstream: it was supposed to have been a fishing lodge, some years ago, but for as long as Padmé could remember it had served as a bath house for visitors to the gentle river.

"We keep it stocked with spare robes and linens," she explained, wandering into the darkness beyond the door. "In case of ... well, probably not _exactly_ such a case as tis, but some sot of emergency, anyway. It's not hooked into the power system, but we have some oil-burning lamps. I used to think they were very exotic."

Ryn snorted, peering around the dim interior. "Oil lamps," she repeated softly, shaking her head. "We don't have power generators on Loreth. Not many oil lamps, either." She surveyed the gloom with a thoughtful expression, her mouth twisting in rueful amusement. "I ought to feel right at home."

She knew from Anakin that his Lorethan friend was younger than either of them - younger even than Padmé had been when she served her first term in the Senate, just a kid in a lot of ways. But not for the first time, Padmé was conscious of an odd dissonance between Ryn's manner and her young face: she had the strange sense of standing in front of a being of timeless certainty, unknown but oddly compelling.

Unnerved, she shook off her fancies and said, "I hope you _will_ make yourselves at home."

Orn Free Taa murmured the requisite polite nothings; Ryn, proceeding deeper into the cabin, just glanced back over her shoulder and favored Padmé with an exquisitely wry grin, clearly amused at her hostess's expense, only too aware that Padmé could cheerfully have wished her to the ends of the galaxy.

Under other circumstances, Padmé thought she might have taken the brief glimpse of humor in a comradely spirit; afraid for Anakin's secret as well as her own, she could only seethe inwardly and wish she had not yielded to Palpatine's subtle hints that a house party in such "genteel company" might be the very thing to civilize the Jedi's dangerously wild pet barbarian.

"I am afraid Miss Orun's ... unconventional ... upbringing reflects badly on the Jedi Order," the Supreme Chancellor had admitted reluctantly. "As capable a fighter as she is - and certainly no one could doubt her courage - her lamentable lack of discretion - lack of _breeding_, one might almost say - is continually drawing unfavorable attention. It troubles me, too, that her name is so often coupled with young Anakin's. They are such close friends, you know - and it's not as if I can tell him to choose between her and me!" He had shaken his head, never noticing the impact his words were having on his visitor. "If only the girl - I hesitate to call her a _lady_ - would acquire some polish. A little time to mix with genteel company might prove ... instructive."

That had been weeks ago, but then Sola had begun planning her house party, and Ryn's name had come up again ...

Padmé had had every intention of setting her up with an eligible young man during her tenure on Naboo. She was beautiful enough to satisfy the most discriminating eye, and Padmé had acquired enough urban polish herself (all before Anakin, of course) to know that some men would find Orun's blatant sensuality more exotic than vulgar, at least in the short-term. And it could only do everyone good to distract her from pining after Anakin.

But Ryn had paid no attention to the carefully-chosen selection of aides and secretaries and minor commerce heirs. She had been politely unencouraging to all their advances, breezing right past them only to fling herself headlong into the arms of corrupt Senator Orn Free Taa, whom she was even now cajoling to sport a decidedly inadequate bathrobe in place of his own soaked garments.

"That won't cover half my goods, Sweet," Taa protested, pretty accurately.

Ryn tossed him a mischievous wink. "Afraid the temptation will prove too much for me, Senator?"

Ryn was clearly prepared to outface the scandal with him - an impulse that would have done her credit if it had been a little less outrageously inappropriate - but Padmé cleared her throat. "I may be able to help," she said, and managed not to wince when Orun and Taa turned to gape at her with twin expressions of incredulity. "Have you found any pins?"

In the end her experience as one of her own handmaidens stood them all in good stead, and she proved herself to have more practical skills than either of her companions had evidently expected. Padmé was able to hash together an arrangement involving two robes and a towel that covered all the pertinent body parts and looked at least recognizable as clothing.

"Delightful!" Ryn assured Taa, looking him over. Her smile conveyed more determination than conviction, but it was dazzling nonetheless. (Padmé reflected, rather bitterly, that Ryn would probably be dazzling in sackcloth and industrial waste.) "Senator Amidala, your talents are quite wasted in the Senate!" She said it with a pretty fair imitation of the upper-class drawl affected by Sola and her peers in public, accompanied by an exaggerated bat of her already extravagant lashes, and Padmé hardly knew whether to laugh or take offense. But then she saw Orn Free Taa's shoulder's ease as he wheezed a chuckle, and she realized that this display of drollery was not meant for her at all.

She told herself that this was for the best, but her jaw was beginning to ache from clenching.

: : :

Anakin stuck his head in as they were preparing to leave, with the information that the entire walking-party had decided that the best course would be to head back to the lakehouse and take stock of their situation, and consequently they would have plenty of company on the trip back.

"You want me to hang back with Obi-Wan and help scout?" Ryn asked, evidently reading between the lines of Anakin's statement as she smoothed Orn Free Taa's sash into place.

Anakin frowned at her. "You're not feeling well," he said disapprovingly. "I'm not sure -"

"No, but _I_ am," Ryn answered pertly. "I'm a good scout - better than you, maybe. And I'm feeling better since I threw up."

Anakin looked doubtful; Ryn waited. "One of us should remain with the Senator," he said finally.

"So trade places with me," Ryn said. "It'll give you a chance to catch up with Senator Amidala, anyway - and you're the more experienced bodyguard."

Anakin shot Padmé a grin that weakened her knees. "Yeah, look how that turned out last time."

Ryn snorted laughter, not nearly as reserved with Anakin as she had been with Padmé and Taa. "Try not to rush into the middle of a galactic crisis this time," she warned him. "I would _hope_ you've learned your lesson."

"Slow learner," Anakin drawled in answer, and the look they shared then was so full of warmth and friendship and _history_ that for a sharp, bleeding second all Padmé wanted to do was cry. She had faith in Anakin ... but how could she possibly compete with years of intimacy, a shared loyalty forged in a past Padmé had never even known?

"I'll see you back at the big house," Ryn said, as though this were some sort of ranch. "Be _careful_, okay? We've got one man down, probably a spy, and definitely an assassin on the loose. Don't do anything reckless."

Padmé thought Ryn was probably wasting her breath, but she forebore to say so, afraid her voice would betray the intensity of her interest. Orn Free Taa was under no such compunction: "Hero With No Fear," he reminded Ryn helpfully.

"He can borrow some of mine," Ryn retorted, clearly unimpressed. "I mean it, Anakin. This is a house party, not a podracing circuit. Behave yourself." She made two swift, curt bows. "Senator, Senator." And then she was gone, leaving Padmé alone with the man she loved and a very unwelcome chaperone, whose faint wheezing punctuated the romantic meeting.

: : :

Obi-Wan glanced up in some surprise at Ryn's approach. "I thought you were staying with Padmé and Senator Orn Free Taa?"

"I traded places with Anakin," Ryn said, briskly unrepentant. "I thought I might be of more use to you, if you plan to search the area."

_Or__you__thought__Anakin__would__be__happier__with__Padmé._ Obi-Wan didn't like suspecting Ryn of subterfuge, but he knew all too well that there was precious little she wouldn't do for Anakin. "Did you see the trajectory of the weapon?"

Ryn shook her head. "I didn't even hear it hit. Which suggests low-powered projectile weaponry, by the way."

"Agreed," said Obi-Wan. "But a direction would be helpful."

"Excuse me," said Bail Organa at his shoulder, glancing from him to Ryn and back again with growing tension, "but don't you think you should report this to the authorities?"

Obi-Wan regarded him with a lifted eyebrow. "You mean like the Jedi and the leader of the Senate?"

"I mean," said Bail with exaggerated patience, "that perhaps it would be unwise for us to sit here with an assassin in our midst while no one outside the Lake Country has the slightest idea what is going on. _Especially_ when the Supreme Chancellor's safety is at stake!"

Obi-Wan smoothed a hand down his beard, preparing to give Organa the reassurances he needed, but Ryn distracted him by saying, "Two."

Organa blinked at her. "I ... sorry?"

"Two assassins," Ryn elaborated. "Beiy'ssa and whoever killed her. Unless the lab test on that drink comes back harmless, in which case she's off the hook." She glanced at the body, her mouth twisting. "For all the good it does her."

_Not__very__likely,_ Obi-Wan thought. If the drink _had_ been harmless, there was no reason to kill Beiy'ssa. Far more likely that she - like Zam Wessel - had been killed to ensure silence.

Bail was looking startled - probably not so much by what was said as by who had said it. He seemed to regard Ryn in the light of a precocious child - a prodigy, even - but at barely seventeen not a force to be reckoned with, except in the fierce edge of her own animal energy.

Obi-Wan, familiar with Padawans rather than generic childhood, found her judgments less hard to accept. "You're probably right," he agreed mildly. "But that brings us no closer to finding the shooter."

Ryn was frowning. "That might depend on whether the shooter is one of us, or followed us here."

"One of us?" Bail repeated. "Surely you don't think -"

"If Beiy'ssa could do it, so could someone else," Obi-Wan interrupted quietly.

"Or someone could have trailed us here," Ryn pointed out. "It's not like this party was a secret. This isn't the best country I've ever seen for shadow-work, but it could be done."

"Shadow-work?" said Organa.

"An umbrella term that covers reconnaissance, sniping, and other clandestine activities of a martial nature," Obi-Wan answered for her. "But if our assassin has the means of travel ..."

"It'd still have to park somewhere," Ryn said - forgetting, as usual, that Basic did not allow neuter gender for animate nouns. "Even with repulsors, there'd be sign."

"If it wasn't touching the ground," Bail began, "then how - ?"

"Footprints, probably; it's hard to shoot from a repulsor seat in hover mode." Well, Ryn would know. "Fucks with your aim. Might be oil drips or lubricant, too."

"Very few engines are perfectly sealed," Obi-Wan explained, while Bail tried to recover from Ryn's uncertain grammar and colorful vocabulary. "The most important thing you can do right now, Bail, is help maintain calm amongst your peers. I'm afraid Sola and Padmé are going to have their hands full."

"Taa was pretty nervous," Ryn added, her eyes shading with genuine concern. "I tried to settle him down some, but I am not ... soothing."

"About as much as a wild gundark," Obi-Wan agreed placidly, startling her into laugher, which only exacerbated Organa's bemusement. "Take the South?"

"Meet back here," Ryn answered, already jogging off to do the scouting for which she'd been trained.

: : :

But seven hours later, after a fairly exhaustive search of the area, they had still found nothing. Ryn came dragging into sight again looking ashen with a deeper weariness than could be explained by the rigors of their search.

"I've combed every inch - sorry; every centimeter - of ground in range of where Beiy'ssa fell," she said, dragging the back of one hand across her dripping forehead. "There's just nowhere a shooter could have lain up that we wouldn't have seen. This rolling ground cuts your line of sight in a hurry."

Obi-Wan had come to the same conclusion himself, so he just nodded. "Then the shooter is one of the guests at the party."

"In attendance, anyway."

There was nothing he could do about that right now, so Obi-Wan turned his attention to a critical survey of his companion. "You look tired, Ryn."

"I'll be all right."

"You're worried about Anakin."

That brought a sob of startled, broken laughter, as Ryn ground the heels of her palms against her closed eyelids. "I'm worried about _myself_."

Obi-Wan folded his arms so he couldn't reach out and touch her. _Attachment._ "Anakin is a Jedi," he reminded her gently. "You knew what that meant. Or ... is it seeing him here, near Padmé?" So very careful with his prepositions: _near_, not _with_, the precarious balance between sorrow and disaster.

"It's ... everything, Obi-Wan." Ryn lowered her hands and tried out a rueful smile. "I know you're worried about keeping Anakin on the Jedi path. But I have the luxury of being just his friend. I can just want him to be happy."

It was rare for Ryn to speak openly of her uncertainties with the Jedi Code - to him, anyway. Even knowing how she felt, Obi-Wan wasn't quite prepared for the impact of her words. He took an involuntary step backward, staring at her. "You think I don't want Anakin to be _happy_?" he challenged her, hearing the shock imperfectly muffled in his own voice.

Ryn's green eyes were clear and unwavering on his, her gaze level and painfully sharp. "I think you want him to be a Jedi more." And before he could recover from that, she hit him with another volley: "You've said as much yourself, haven't you? Asking him to give up love to lead the life of an ascetic? What could possibly make you imagine that would make Anakin _happy_?"

She didn't even sound bitter about it. Just resigned: full of a weary incredulity, past the hope for change.

"Anakin chose the life of a Jedi," Obi-Wan reminded her, suppressing a quiver of nerves and temper.

"When he was nine years old, and the only Jedi he had ever met was Qui-Gon Jinn," Ryn answered bitingly. "That's like asking a nine-year-old if they'd like to get _married_. There's a reason why most societies have things like the age of consent, Obi-Wan. And the Jedi circumvent them by getting permission from their parents instead." Obi-Wan couldn't decide if she was mixing her pronouns willfully or if her Basic was just breaking down under stress. "When anybody else does that, it's called _infant__enslavement_, and it's only legal on places like Tatooine."

His ears were ringing as though she'd slapped him. "If that is what you think of us, then -"

"The Jedi are better than the alternative," Ryn cut in, her voice sharp with misery. "Better than _nothing_, against the storm that is coming." Here she was, talking about extra-galactic monsters _again_. Any minute now she would start in on the _Soulless_, whatever they were supposed to be. "That doesn't mean I have to support Jedi policy uncritically - and neither should you."

Instead of giving him further dire warnings, the young Lorethan turned on her heel and marched away, and not until she was almost out of speaking distance did it occur to Obi-Wan to wonder whether she had turned the argument away from Anakin, and her own troubled feelings, on purpose.

He would have asked her, but then the Force surged a warning and he hit the ground as a blaster bolt singed the air overhead, and that was very distracting.

"_Ryn! GET DOWN!"_

: : :

Padmé, meanwhile, was caught between joy and agony, flirting covertly with her husband under a few dozen pairs of watchful eyes. They were sticking close to Orn Free Taa, since he had been - according to Ryn, anyway - the first target; but this was proving something of a diplomatic challenge, as Anakin's patience with Taa's licentiousness and cowardice was limited. It was evident - to Padmé, at least - that the young Jedi could not understand why he might be worth killing any more than he had understood his best friend's willingness to sleep with the Twi'lek Senator. (_She__'__s__a__slut_ was Padmé's preferred explanation, but she doubted Anakin would welcome that theory.)

"A little slower, Master Skywalker, if you please," Taa panted now. "I am ... not what I used to be, you know."

Anakin stopped and waited impatiently for Taa to catch up - not that he fidgeted, or even frowned, but he radiated the tenseness of barely leashed energy, straining at some unseen bridle like a half-tamed nexu.

The thought was inappropriately stirring, and Padmé could feel her cheeks heating even as she watched him. Then Anakin caught her staring and cast her a quizzical look - failing, as usual, to even consider that someone might be impressed with him for reasons that had nothing to do with his prowess in the Force. (Probably this was why he had tried to attract her by floating fruit.) Padmé's face grew even warmer as she blushed under her husband's unsuspecting gaze.

Taa eyed her with considerably more acuity, his perception not clouded by Anakin's belief in his wife's absolute purity. "Hmp!" he said; but to Padmé's intense relief he did not elaborate, and kept his observations to himself.

_Thank__the__Force__for__small__favors,_ she thought, and stepped in to smooth the latest ruffled feathers.

: : :

Sola bustled into the lakehouse, already giving orders for a room to be cleared for the Jedi's use in sequestering suspects, and only belatedly noticed a newcomer in the entrance hall: a slenderly-built man a little older than Padmé, with dark, curly hair and ...

"Palo!" she gasped, her face suddenly on fire. _I__didn't__even__warn__Padmé__he__was__coming__ …_ "Mom said ... I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow!"

Palo turned red in his turn. "I am sorry, Ms. Naberrie. If if's not a convenient time, I can -"

"No, no!" Sola exclaimed, catching his arm as she grasped after her wits. _Damn__it,__damn__it,__damn__it__ …_ And then she looked at Padmé, staring at her beautiful, unattainable Jedi boy, who was watching Palo with deep suspicion … and she found herself, for the first time she could remember, taking her mother's side. "Of course you must stay here - it's not inconvenient at all! Only we had a bit of excitement this morning, and ... but I'm sure Padmé can tell you all about it!" She thrust him at her sister, ignoring the younger Naberrie's look of startled betrayal. "Tekla!" she called, gathering her skirts for a hasty climb up the stairs. "Prepare another room ... Tekla!"


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. I am not making any profit from this story, which is purely a work of fan fiction.

Chapter title from "Some Kind of Home," by Thriving Ivory.

Author's notes:

1) Special thanks to angie, who totally left an awesome review on the last chappie. Thanks, hon! Your comments keep me posting! :)

2) If anybody has thoughts of a feedbacky-nature, I would like to hear them. Plots and intrigue are a new venture for me, and the only thing I really know about this story so far is that it Needs More Palpatine. (I'm trying to give him at least a small bit in each chapter, but I can't help feeling that there should be more thoroughgoing Sithly seductions at work.)

3) I hope y'all are enjoying this thing half as much as I am! Comments and suggestions are welcome in this romp. :)

**A Parody of Manners**

**~ CHAPTER TEN ~ **

**what you see when your eyes close**

Ryn hit dirt and rolled just as her ears registered the _zing_ of a discharged blaster. "Obi-Wan!"

But Obi-Wan was too busy deflecting blaster fire to answer her, so Ryn drew her own lightsaber and stood up warily, only too well aware that she was really _bad_ at sensing incoming fire before it hit.

It didn't take long to spot the source of the mischief, however. An armored seeker droid equipped with a rotating blaster port was bearing down on them, concentrating rapid bursts of fire on Obi-Wan, as obviously the more dangerous of the two. "Kill or capture?" Ryn yelled at him, scanning the area for more threats.

"Capture, if possible," Obi-Wan returned drily. "You'll notice I have elected _not_ to deflect any of its fire back to the source."

_Uh-huh_. Holding her lightsaber in one hand, Ryn knelt and pried a rock loose from the ground. It took a couple of tries, but she managed to free it from the meadow's rich dark soil and brush aside the crumbling loam, populated by blind worms. _Run, __little __ones,_ Ryn thought at them, trying to impose a sense of _down_ that would override their disordered senses and drive them back underground before they were shriveled by Naboo's bright golden sunlight. But they mostly ignored her, and Ryn didn't have to time to save them right now.

_It__'__s __always __something._

She stood up sharply, drawing the seeker droid's sensors to bear on her with the sudden movement, and with a quick twist of her wrist, she let fly the stone.

She'd timed it right; the stone struck between bolts, denting but not destroying the short muzzle. The next shot went wide, knocked off-course by the new alteration in muzzle shape, and Ryn stepped in, bringing her lightsaber up in a tight arc that broke the next shot and sheared off the muzzle completely. "Obi-Wan, I -"

The seeker droid froze in hover mode, emitting a whirring noise. Obi-Wan dove under and tackled her, wrapping his body around hers and rolling hard to the left - well, his left, anyway. There was a high-pitched metallic shriek, a burst of light, and then the all-too-familiar sound of an explosion heralded a hot, stinging rain of shrapnel and slag, falling on their exposed limbs.

Lying stretched on top of her, Obi-Wan braced one hand against the ground by Ryn's ear and pushed himself up to meet her eyes. "Are you all right?"

Ryn swallowed and nodded. "Just ––" She stopped and cleared her throat, tried again. "Just a little singed."

Obi-Wan's fingertips brushed her jawline, unexpectedly affectionate. "You're as bad as Anakin."

"Anakin wouldn't have screwed up the capture."

Obi-Wan gave her his rare, crooked smile –– the real one, not The Negotiator's practiced gleam. "Are we talking about the same Anakin Skywalker?"

Ryn swatted him on the arm –– an awkward maneuver, given their relative positions –– but she could feel the answering grin on her own face. "You sense any more of those things?"

Obi-Wan's eyes went unfocused for a moment as he searched the Force. "No," he decided. "But we had better be going, just the same."

He levered himself off of her with more than Jedi grace, and held a hand out to help her to her feet. "Bail was right about one thing," he said. "We need to confer with Master Yoda as quickly as possible, before things get out of hand."

Ryn glanced back at the still-smoking shattered remains of the seeker droid. "How exactly do you define _out __of __hand_?"

Obi-Wan just grinned.

: : :

"Padmé Naberrie," said Palo affectionately. "It's been ... what, twelve years?"

"Thirteen," Padmé answered faintly, trying to recover from the shock. "The last time I saw you was ––"

At the Nabo for the Arts dinner, during your first term as Queen." Palo smiled. "Hard to believe our little Padmé rose so far, so fast –– but I always knew you were meant for great things."

"Ah," said Padmé uncertainly, feeling a hint of sting in the compliment, and then Anakin broke in.

"Aren't you going to introduce us, Senator?" He held out his hand, meeting Palo's eyes with a little too much intensity. "I'm Anakin Skywalker. I take it you're a friend of the family?"

"Oh –– yes!" Padmé recalled her manners with a start. "How foolish of me! Palo, this is Jedi Anakin Skywalker ... Senator Taa, my friend, Palo Suporne."

Anakin bowed politely, but his gaze held a challenge that undercut Taa's polite greeting.

_Not __good, __not __good__..._

Padmé took Palo by the arm. "Have you met Breha Organa yet?" Bail's wife is a great supporter of the arts."

But although Breha correctly read the look of entreaty Padmé sent her, and tried gamely to involve Palo in a discussion of arts funding programs, Padmé's troubles were far from over. She could hardly abandon Palo amidst strangers, merely to go peel Sola's ears for her, and yet she was all too keenly aware of Anakin's fiercely possessive gaze, following her about the room. His jealousy was as dangerous as it was thrilling: already their feelings for each other were far too exposed in such close quarters. If Anakin made a scene ...

And Palo was Not Helping, either. He had no way to know, of course, that he was poaching on another man's territory, but the frank appraisal in his eyes must surely have offended any woman with a sense of _self_. He too plainly considered her his for the taking.

_And __I __wonder __whom __I __have __to __thank __for __that?_ Padmé thought bitterly. That Sola had acted entirely alone was unlikely; in the past, she had always managed to stay one step ahead of their parents' matchmaking designs for Padmé, but the youngest Naberrie had no doubt that she was now witnessing the beginning of a program of collusion.

It was almost too much to bear. Just because she had refused to leave public life and become a baby factory did not mean her life was empty! She had Anakin ... not that she could tell anyone about him ... and he loved her –– _for_ her passion for justice rather than merely in spite of it! She was making a difference in the galaxy! Not everyone wanted to hide from the realities of ––

"... Padmé?"

Padmé blinked herself out of her reverie to see Breha smiling at her benignly, but with a quizzical tilt at the corners of her eyes that suggested she'd had to bid for Padmé's attention more than once. "I'm sorry, Breha; I'm afraid I was meadow-picking. Say that again?" _Some __co-hostess __I__'__ve __turned __out __to __be._

"I was just telling Master Suporne," said Breha gently, "that if he is interested in showing war in art, then he has at least three very eligible subjects right here in this house."

"Three subjects," Padmé repeated blankly.

"The two Jedi, of course, and Commander Orun." Breha half-turned to include Palo in her smile. "All noted war heroes, as I'm sure you are aware. If you like sentient subjects, you would be hard-pressed to find any that represent the face of the GAR more iconically."

Palo inclined his head. "And capturing Skywalker's aura of power - the sheer intensity of the man! - would be quite the challenge. Did you say who the other Jedi was?"

"General Kenobi," said Breha. "The Negotiator."

Palo whistled softly. "Two of the Republic's brightest heroes. Either the Jedi hold you in great esteem, Padmé, or they must think you're a Separatist in disguise –– sending that team after you." He grinned at her, all charm, but Padmé could muster no more than a wan smile in response. "What about Orun? Does she live up to her fame?"

"Her fame?" Padmé murmured politely.

Palo laughed. "You know. Beautiful, mysterious, deadly ... the stereotype of a _dangerous __woman._" He lowered his voice melodramatically at the end, earning a soft chuckle from Breha.

"She's certainly attractive," Padmé said diplomatically, and did _not_ grind her teeth. "But you'll have to draw your own conclusions."

"I doubt if she can keep up her shine in present company." Palo accompanied this piece of gallantry (rather tortured, in Padmé's opinion) with a lingering perusal of her own physical attributes. "Will I meet her at luncheon?"

But Palo did not meet Ryn at luncheon, nor in the garden afterward, and as the day drew on, Padmé began to grow concerned –– but all Anakin would say, when she snatched him for a quick aside, was that he could feel both Ryn and Obi-Wan and that they were both tired and frustrated but in no immediate danger.

"Are you sure?" Padmé asked him insistently, leaning briefly around the corner to make sure they weren't overhead. "They've been gone for hours."

_No, __have __they?_ said the look on Anakin's face; she could practically _see_ him bite his tongue. But he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, his features settling into a mask of concentration. "Ryn is hunting," he reported dutifully after a moment. "She feels discouraged; I don't think she expects to find anything. She's also irritated, but I don't - oh." He opened his eyes. "She says to stop worrying, and she'll be here soon."

Padmé felt her eyes widen in spite of herself, in spite of all the silent promises she'd made never to stand in awe of Anakin's Force ability. "I had no idea that Jedi telepathy was so explicit."

"It's not, usually."

"Oh." She wasn't sure what to do with that. "Are you so much closer to Ryn than to Obi-Wan, or ..." She didn't know how to finish that sentence.

"_No,_" said Anakin, with wearing patience. "Jedi are trained to use the Force to quiet their minds. So most of the time there's not much to sense. Ryn's feelings - like most beings' - are easier to catch."

"Oh." She seemed to be saying that a lot this afternoon; she struggled to digest Anakin's information, instead of just wondering exactly what kind of feelings Ryn was sending him on a daily basis –– not that it was much of a mystery. There were addicts in Coruscant's underbelly –– Padmé had worked with the unfortunate of various worlds enough to know –– who looked at their drug with less patent longing. "Is it ... distracting, to feel what other beings are thinking all the time?"

Anakin frowned at her. "Is it distracting to hear things?"

"Yes?" Padmé looked at him expectantly.

"No, I'm asking you." Anakin gestured with one hand. "Right now, there's music playing in the background, a bird signing outside, and eight people talking in the next room. Are you distracted?"

"Well, no," Padmé began, and then stopped. "Oh. I see."

"Empathy –– and it's _not_ telepathy, by the way –– is just a sense, like any other," Anakin explained, his voice taking on a slightly lecturing tone that (Padmé recognized with a gleam of amusement) sounded remarkably like Obi-Wan. "For a Jedi, it is all part of living within the Force. For a genetic empath, like Ryn, it doesn't even require training." He tipped his head to one side. "I don't know if this will help you to think of it, but she told me once that it was more like smell than sight."

No, that didn't help at all, but that wasn't even half the most interesting thing in that speech. "Lorethans are empathic? But I thought human populations rated too low in ESP to produce ––"

Her secret husband frowned at her, probably much the same way he'd look at a Youngling holding her lightsaber wrong. "You have to stop thinking of it as _extra-sensory_ perception," he told her sternly. "I just told you it _was_ sensory." He gazed at her pointedly until she nodded, and then went on, apparently satisfied. "Anyway, not all Lorethans are born empaths. It's a genetic variation with them, like eye color." Padmé opened her mouth to question him further, but Anakin forestalled her. "If you want to know more, you'll have to ask Ryn."

Padmé had been in politics too long not to notice that he wasn't saying he didn't _know_ more, and wonder what sort of secrets he was keeping.

_Oh, my love. Don't you know you can trust me?_

It didn't take long to see that Anakin's trust in her was being stretched in more ways than one. His jealousy of Palo, as flattering as it had been at first blush, was fast becoming a source of exasperation. The way Anakin _glared_ at him, he might as well have been snorting and tossing his horns like an angry he-shaak. It was about the farthest thing from subtle Padmé could imagine, but there was no way she could call him on it without drawing even more attention, and for the first time she found herself wishing that Obi-Wan were around to keep an eye on his behavior, with his entirely-too-keen powers of observation and his way of chastening Anakin with a mere lift of his eyebrow.

In the end, however, it was Palpatine who rose to the occasion, diffusing the situation without ever giving the slightest sign that he had noticed anything amiss. He drew Anakin aside for a walk in the gardens, ostensibly to consult with him about a new report that had just come in –– but really, Padmé suspected, to give them all a break from his needless posturing.

Padmé didn't wait for Anakin to start again. She sprang up almost as soon as he reappeared, a respectful half-step behind the Chancellor, and clapped her hands. "Well!" she exclaimed brightly. "If w are to be ready for entertainments this evening, we will need to recruit our strength, won't we? I expect we could all use a refreshing nap!"

Sola, who knew full well that Padmé had never voluntarily taken a nap in her life, looked rather startled; but under the force of her sister's determined stare, she yielded (somewhat guiltily; proof, if any was needed, that she was by no means innocent in the business of Palo's inconvenient presence) and lent her voice to the strength of this proposal, with the result that the various guests were borne off, milling like cattle toward their rooms.

And then, because Anakin was no more sleepy than she was –– and far more skilled in sneaking around hallways unobserved –– Padmé got a chance to demonstrate a few of the ways she preferred him to Palo.

: : :

Alone in his suite in the lakehouse, Darth Sidious replayed the last few seconds of the seeker droid's transmission, watching attentively as Kenobi sprang to Orun's rescue –– a dashing, urbane hero of principle.

"My dear," he told Orun's silent image thoughtfully, "you certainly do get around. But I am afraid all your suitors except the one you want are most painfully inconvenient."

He might have said more, but found himself overcome by a very welcome distraction as the rush of Anakin's completion, a few floors above his head, took him –– and most probably the two lovebirds, as well –– quite by surprise.

Palpatine savored the mingled awareness of his unwitting protégé's satisfaction and Amidala's disappointment appreciatively for a moment before reaching out to flick off the frozen image of Orun, wrapped in Kenobi's arms, and delete the file, finding himself confronted with a delectable dilemma: which path to disaster would prove the most exquisite?


End file.
